


Cozy

by whatabadchoice



Series: Tuesdays [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, hotel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9184300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabadchoice/pseuds/whatabadchoice
Summary: It’s 4am this time and Mr. Smith came out of the elevator, not the front door, so Castiel hadn’t seen him before the sound of his voice had abruptly interrupted his game of solitaire.Well, he wasn’t writing anyway.





	

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas happy new year when will this mess be done

APRIL 23rd 

“Okay what’s going on?”

It’s 4am this time and Mr. Smith came out of the elevator, not the front door, so Castiel hadn’t seen him before the sound of his voice had abruptly interrupted his game of solitaire. 

Well, he wasn’t writing anyway. 

“What seems to be the problem, sir?” Castiel can’t quite decide on a moniker that doesn’t get his heartbeat up. “Mr. Smith” makes him want to get on his knees and beg for a knot like a heat-crazed omega. “Sir” really isn’t cutting it in that department either. He’ll have to keep thinking about it. Or possibly stop thinking about it. Mr. Smith’s scent is already addling his brains a little.

“Well, _that_ , actually.”

“I’m sorry? I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Castiel responds evenly. 

“Come on, Cas, what’s up? I know I… I know I told you to come to me if needed anything. I wasn’t gonna pry but…” Mr. Smith looks uncomfortable for a moment, then seems to steel himself. “Dude. Spill.”

Castiel sighs. 

It’s not Mr. Smith’s fault his boss handed him a suspension notice the day before for his failure to take a payment. It’s not strictly his fault that Castiel nearly forgot to enter the parking auditor’s notes on time because he couldn’t stop thinking about the words _little Alpha_. It’s not the guest’s fault that Castiel has an enormous, inappropriate, uncontrollable crush on him.

His extended silence pulls a huffed breath out of Mr. Smith.

“Look, man, we’ve been talking every week for months now. And even if we hadn’t, I can tell you’re not okay,” he says, dropping his hands onto the counter. Castiel doesn’t look at them. They’re not large or inviting. He doesn’t imagine them on his hips. 

Castiel does scent the air to see if his trepidation and hesitation is seeping through his scent, however, but he finds only the neutral scent of blockers.

“I don’t mean… Not because of _that_!” Mr. Smith says, noticing Castiel’s nostril flare. Castiel can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “No! I mean… I don’t know. God, whatever, this isn’t even about me. Cas. Something’s wrong. I care about you. Spill it.”

Castiel _blushes_.  
“I’ll tell you about my shitty job, and then you can tell me about yours. How does that sound?” Mr. Smith adds quickly, clearly spotting a weakness. Castiel can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Fine,” he says, if only to distract from the way his scent is probably burning through those blockers now -- with excitement, warmth, arousal? Castiel can’t even tell. Mr. Smith just grins at him, cat and canary and damned sex god. 

“Well _my_ day was super long. I got home early enough, but only because of Lisa and her fucking big mouth…”

“Lisa?” Castiel prompts, trying to keep his tone neutral. _Lisa_.

“Yeah, a beta who’s been working on this project with me for a while now. It’s been pretty close quarters, and at first I was pretty psyched, you know? She’s gorgeous, all tanned skin and huge eyes. And she’s beta, so you know it’s not going to be complicated or anything--” Mr. Smith stops himself for a moment, face pinkening, and abruptly clears his throat. “Anyway, turned out working in close quarters was the fucking _worst_ idea my boss has ever had for us.”

Castiel keeps his pleased smirk to himself, but Mr. Smith still eyes his mouth before continuing.

“Lisa is great. Really,” Mr. Smith starts. Castiel turns a scoff into a cough, waves him off when Mr. Smith gives him a concerned look. “She’s super smart, quick wit and even quicker comebacks. But…”

Mr. Smith’s scent turns sour, hesitation palpable in the air. Castiel raises his eyebrows, silently communicating his commitment to their deal. 

“Well she got it in her head that I was heartbroken this week. That my new piece of tail had left me and that’s why I was moping around the office,” Mr. Smith says, scent spiking in annoyance. “S’none of her damn business!”

“Did they?” Castiel asks, before he can stop himself. 

“What?”

“Did… your…” Castiel can’t finish the sentence now and he tries with all his might to suppress the embarrassed flush threatening to take over his face.

“Oh!” Dean exclaims, realization, then a happy expression dawning on his face.

Castiel rolls his eyes.

“Alright, no need to look so pleased,” Castiel grumbles. Dean ignores the jab, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“No. _They_ didn’t leave me. It was just one of those weeks, you know?” Mr. Smith averts his eyes, but keeps talking. “Anyway, she _tattled_ on me to the bosses, going off about how I was sensitive and jumpy and ‘maybe I needed a night off to relax’. Ugh.”

Castiel frowns.

“She sounds like she is looking out for you,” Castiel finds himself arguing. He’s too busy berating himself for not noticing how tired Mr. Smith looks. Maybe he is approaching his rut. Maybe he needed Castiel to be extra attentive this week and he was too preoccupied with his own problems to even bother checking on Mr. Smith. 

“No way,” Mr. Smith answers. “She’s just gunning for the same promotion. The big guys upstairs are pretty traditional, so she’s had to work extra hard. They aren’t really… _progressive_ , so even though she’s a beta, she’s still a…” Mr. Smith looks embarrassed to even say it.

“A woman,” Castiel finished for him.

“I don’t think that though!” Mr. Smith quickly interjects. Castiel tilts his head and frowns again.

“You don’t think Lisa is a woman?” he asks innocently. Mr. Smith leans forward so he can push at Castiel’s shoulder a little. _Worth it._

“Alright, jackass, you know what I meant!” 

“I do, actually,” Castiel replies seriously.

“Is this the part where you tell me about _your_ shitty day, Cas?”

“It seems it is. Though it isn’t much different from your problems… My boss is also… _traditional_ , and seeing as I have been working here for ten years,” the guest whistles at that. “There are many expectations. I am expected to work my way up the ladder, to achieve greatness, to lust after power. I am expected to be commanding and have leadership.” Castiel smiles wryly. “I am at least expected to be _interested_ in these things.”

“But…” Mr. Smith prompts. 

Castiel bites his lip, tempted. 

“I can’t. Or rather, I’m not,” Castiel says vaguely, cursing himself. Half-truths it is.

“That’s okay, I think,” Mr. Smith replies, shrugging. Castiel looks up in surprise, eyes wide. “What?” Mr. Smith asks, blushing a little. “Shouldn’t you be able to choose what you want? If you’re happy working here, doing this, then what’s wrong with that?”

“I’m not sure I would call it _happy_ , but…” Castiel shakes his head, sure his face is still lit in wonder. “I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me.”

“No one told you you should do what you want in life?”

“No… Just… When I say I don’t want more, people always ask why,” Castiel says quietly. Mr. Smith frowns.

“It doesn’t matter why,” Dean says, tone resolute.

“Lots of people would disagree with you. But I’m sure you’re aware of the pressure to perform as an Alpha,” Castiel says, attempting to diffuse the fierceness in the guest’s eyes. His expression changes through different emotions before settling on a neutral mask at Castiel’s words. “We’re supposed to be some knothead go-getters, but no one expects us to like to _think_ and _feel_ too, right?”

Castiel pauses, realizing what he just said. Mr. Smith is bright red and shuffling his feet and Castiel is mentally kicking himself.

“Sorry, that was rude. I didn’t mean to assume…” He bites his lip. “Or use such coarse language…” He glances at the computer screen. “My, it’s late.”

“Yeah, and the weather is really bad. How about them Pacers, though?” Dean finally chuckles at Castiel’s mildly confused and worried look. “Don’t worry Cas, I get it. You don’t have to switch back to Welcome to the Inn mode.”

Castiel’s shoulders slump a little in relief.

“Still,” he says half-heartedly, but Dean waves him off.

“I get it,” Dean says, but he still looks a little guilty. “Maybe not exactly the same over here on the corporate ladder, but definitely some expectations, to say the l-ahh-haaaa!”

His sentence is cut off by a large yawn, and Castiel inclines his head, smiling.

“Looks like I should stop boring you with my stupid troubles,” he says, leaning back a little to offer Mr. Smith an out. 

“Nah, man, I think it’s just your scent. Puts me to sleep or something,” Mr. Smith says dreamily. 

Castiel glares.

“S’a good thing! Promise!” Mr. Smith protests, yawning again. “S’cozy.”

Castiel can’t help the startled noise that gets caught in his throat at the thought of Dean cuddling up to the scent of him in order to fall asleep.

“Oh and here,” Mr. Smith says, bringing up a hand that had stayed hidden throughout their interaction. “I forgot it.” The tips of his ears are pink and Castiel is not imagining kissing them.

“Right,” Castiel replies, taking the sweater he lays on the counter. “ _Forgot…_ ”

Mr. Smith looks up at him sharply, fighting a smile, a little guilt seeping into the playful scent behind those blockers. He taps the desk once and starts to walk away. He turns around before leaving. 

“It stopped smelling like you a while ago anyway,” Mr. Smith says, and _winks_. “‘Night, Cas!” He calls as he walks into the elevator. Castiel is left open mouthed, staring.


End file.
